Tales of Tatooine
by Jade Pilot
Summary: A series of vignettes about Luke Skywalker and his life on Tatooine.
1. Chapter 1

Tales of Tatooine

_A series of vignettes about Luke Skywalker and his life on Tatooine._

"Come _on_, Luke!" shouted Biggs, gesturing with his arm toward the cave. They had snuck off to the Jundland Wastes instead of going to the Darklighter household like they had told his Aunt and Uncle. Now outside the mouth of one of the bigger caves, Biggs was determined to go inside with the other boys who had dared to walk along the dangerous Arthnout pass, too.

"No," Luke shouted back. "If I go in there Uncle Owen will tan my hide for sure."

Biggs knew his best friend spoke the truth. Luke's uncle was a strict disciplinarian and was often harsh when dealing with his nephew. He could never understand why Mr. Lars was so tough on Luke—or so protective. The combination of the two always seemed contradictory and confusing to the nine year old. Biggs had learned to just keep his distance from the grumpy moisture farmer. "He'll never find out. We got this far didn't we?"

Luke looked around a moment and then nodded his head in agreement. "But I can't stay long, okay?"

"Sure Luke. Now let's hurry, the other boys are already in there," said Biggs, grabbing Luke by the arm.

Both boys entered the cave and halted a moment, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the dim light. A faint aromatic scent filled their nostrils, like an ancient spice laced with memories.

"Which way did they go?" asked Luke, moving a little closer to his friend.

Biggs didn't mind. Even though Luke was a year younger, he was adventurous and as loyal a friend as you'd ever find. He was the only one who didn't think of him as the spoiled rich Darklighter kid. Biggs looked over to the right and listened to the sound of footfalls. "I think they went this way—hurry!"

They followed the sound of the others as they quickly shuffled through the darkening cave. Reaching the group of boys, they fell in line.

"Where are we going?" asked Luke, trailing a hand along the cave's dusty walls.

"Shhhh…" said Windy, turning to face Biggs and Luke. "You want to scare her away?"

"Scare _who_ away?" asked Luke, coming to a stop as he bumped right into Fixer, the leader of the group.

"What's _he_ doing here?" sneered Fixer, pointing to Luke. "He's just a kid."

Biggs shoved Fixer away from Luke. "We're all just kids, Bantha breath, and Luke is with me so lay off."

Luke cast a look of appreciation toward Biggs as the group of boys continued to travel deeper into the cave.

Windy fell back until he was walking next to Biggs. "We're going to see the old watcher woman. Deak says that sometimes she'll tell you stuff and even answer questions if she's not in a crazy way."

Biggs swallowed and whispered, "Have you ever seen her before?"

"No, but Deak has and he says she's got the sight. She can tell you about stuff that happened long ago or stuff that's gonna happen."

"Shhh…." said Fixer noisily. "We're here."

Biggs looked to the left and saw a small alcove bathed in firelight. An old frail woman wrapped in homespun garments sat with her head bowed, not seeming to notice the arrival of their party. Her face was deeply lined as if weathered by the harsh desert winds. Biggs shivered and took a small step backwards.

"Now what?" asked Windy softly.

The woman stirred suddenly and slowly lifted her head, as if she were holding court. As she opened her eyes, the boys gasped. She had the eyes of the ancient ones. Those who had stared too long at the suns and had been cursed with eyes like opaque white stones. A small smile tugged at her lips.

Fixer crossed his arms and took a step forward as to address her. "Old woman—"

"I have a name, young man," she chastised, her voice thinly hoarse. "Or have the sons and daughters of the sands forgotten their manners?"

Fixer cursed and turned to the others. "Come on, we'll go ask old Ben about—"

"Old Ben?" she laughed without humor. "That one is lost in his misery and regrets, with guilt as his only sustenance. Nothing of our people can he tell you." She swept the group with a glance as if her eyes could see. When she reached Luke she stopped. "Come here, my child."

Luke froze.

"Go on," whispered Biggs giving him a little nudge.

"No," whispered Luke.

"I will not harm you," she said softly. "The rest of you may sit."

Luke slowly approached the woman who was now holding out her hand. The boys gathered around her, near the small fire. She reached out and raised Luke's chin with one finger and as she seemed to gaze into his face.

"You have the clear blue eyes of your father, my child. And though you live here among us you were not born here." She paused and gestured for Luke to sit. Raising her hands she lowered the hood of her cloak, revealing long white hair tumbling over her shoulder and onto the ground. "What is it you would ask old Mala?"

Luke looked over at Biggs with a questioning look on his face, but Biggs just nodded his head. Staring into the fire a moment, he looked up suddenly and turned to the watcher woman. "Do you know the story of the two suns?" he asked.

Mala smiled and nodded. "You have chosen well, my child. Many times have I seen you dance across my dream-scapes. Yes, I remember how the _fires in the sky_ came to be."

The boys inched closer and settled themselves. Mala stared off into the distance for a moment and then began.

"Long ago there was a young man and woman, deeply in love. It was said that no love burned brighter than theirs. So they both made a pledge that nothing would separate them from each other, not even death. But their people came under attack from neighboring tribes. Some say these were the early Sand people—but who can say for sure. The man, along with the rest of his kinsmen, went off to defend their people. The woman not wanting to be apart from her beloved, begged to go with him, but she was refused."

Mala paused and looked back again at Luke. Taking a labored breath she continued.

"The woman followed behind the men in secret, hiding so as not to be found. On the fifth morning as the men were preparing to leave their tents, they were ambushed and killed by the marauding tribe. The woman watched in horror as her beloved was struck down. Rushing to his side, she cradled him in her arms as he lay dying. She promised never to leave him and would follow him even unto death. As she cried out in anguish, the desert winds heard her tormented wail and felt compassion for her. They took the soul of the man and woman and flung them into the sky as they exploded into two bright bodies of light, Tatoo I—the man and Tatoo II—the woman. And by doing so she could keep her promise to always follow her beloved. For the man leads the way to the horizon…followed by the woman."

Biggs shuddered as he felt a cool wind whip through the cave. Looking up he noticed a tear slipping down Luke's face.

Mala wrapped her cloak tighter around her thin frame and closed her eyes. "It is time for you to leave now. You may come back again—if you bring the child with you." And with that she lowered her head and appeared to sleep.

Silently the boys stood and exited the alcove, traveling back out of the cave and into the bright Tatooine sunlight. Shielding their eyes, they hurried across Arnthout Pass and headed back to their homes, a few stealing glances at Luke along the way.

When the rest had separated from them, Luke looked over at Biggs. "Why did she say that I wasn't born here, Biggs? Aunt and Uncle said I was."

Biggs averted his eyes. He had heard his parents talking once about Luke and how his guardians had taken him in when he was just a baby. He looked over at his friend's frowning face. "I don't know, Luke. What does crazy old Mala know anyway?"

"She knows. I can tell."

"How, Luke? How can you tell?"

Luke shrugged as they passed the garage roof at the Lars' farm. "I just can. I don't know how."

Arriving at the courtyard of Luke's home, both boys paused to look up into the sky. Tatoo I began its slow descent into the horizon followed closely by Tatoo II.

Mesmerized they watched in silence and smiled.

End


	2. Chapter 2

Vignette # 2

A/N: Much has been speculated as to whether Owen and Beru Lars knew that Darth Vader was once Anakin Skywalker. After doing a little research it seems it runs about 50/50 both ways. My personal belief and the one that I based this story on is that they did not know and that they gave Luke the last name of Skywalker to honor his father who was killed in the Jedi purge.

JP

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"Beru take Luke inside." Owen Lars kept his eyes carefully focused on the hooded figure as it approached the Lars' windswept homestead. His wife Beru sat a few meters away with their charge while he dug happily in the sand with the new toys Owen had picked up in Anchorhead.

"But why Owen?" asked Beru, smiling as she watched her charge giggle with delight. "Luke is having so much fun—"

"NOW Beru!" said Owen sharply. His wife looked up quickly and met his eyes. "Please, dear…take Luke inside. I'll see to the toys." His features softened as he glanced at the two of them.

Scooping up the three year old boy, Beru turned and headed to the entrance of their home giving her husband an inquisitive look. Owen simply nodded and watched as they disappeared inside.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Owen took a deep breath and prepared to battle over the safety of his family; for fast approaching was the strongest and most powerful threat that remained on Tatooine.

Obi-Wan Kenobi trudged the sands that covered the threshold of the small moisture farm and stopped directly in front of Owen, extending his hand. "Hello, Owen. How is our boy?"

Owen scowled. "He's not your boy, Kenobi. I thought I made that plain."

"You made it plain that you thought Luke was too young to start his training at two years old. I disagreed, but acquiesced to your wishes. Now the boy is three, as of yesterday and well past the age when a Jedi should begin his training," said Obi-Wan calmly, his hands resting in the sleeves of his robe.

"There will be no Jedi training for Luke," said Owen his face impassive.

Obi-Wan paused as if trying to sense what Owen was thinking. "I see….and what do you think his father would make of that?"

"We'll never know, now will we? His father is dead all because he joined the Jedi and the likes of you." Owen turned and stomped toward the courtyard.

"Owen!" Obi-Wan called following behind. "Anakin was a slave before he joined the Order. Surely you can see that by extraditing his freedom and giving him an education he was better off?"

The moisture farmer wheeled around. "And what of his safety? What of a mother's broken heart?"

"Shmi? We had her full support in establishing her son's freedom."

Owen sighed and shook his head. "There are many kinds of freedom, Kenobi. Did you every think of that? If you had left him on Tatooine with his mother, he would have come to live here…with us. Not off on some fool's crusade against the galaxy. And not end up dead trying to fight against a power that could not be defeated."

"You don't know that. Anakin had a destiny to fulfill—"

"—and look where it got him." Owen drew near to the Jedi's face and whispered. "I'll not have Luke sacrificed the way Anakin was."

Obi-Wan seemed speechless for a moment, swallowing convulsively. "You don't understand."

Owen bent down and collected the sand toys, stuffing them into a mesh bag. "I understand more than you know." He stood and faced his opponent. "I saw the look in Anakin's eyes when he returned with his mother's body. He was changed somehow, different…haunted. He should have stayed here and not gone back to the Jedi. We could've helped him heal, not stuff his emotions down where they would eat away at him."

"I tried…" said Obi-Wan softly. "He just wouldn't open up to me. And you're right about him keeping so much inside. It did eat away at him." He bowed his head a moment, as if remembering. "Anakin was like a brother to me and I loved him."

Both men stood listening to the desert winds in silence.

Owen's head came up abruptly. "Then for the love of his father, leave Luke alone. He's healthy and happy with us. He'll be safe here, away from the horrors that plagued his father."

The Jedi Master shook his head. "But he is our only hope in defeating the Emperor. His Force abilities are as great as Anakin's and he can be taught to use this power to defend the galaxy and re-establish the Order."

"No. I will not allow it!" shouted Owen. "There is nothing more to be said." He opened the door to his dwelling.

"I could take him, you know."

Owen froze. For this was his greatest fear, knowing that the Jedi Master was powerful enough to snatch Luke from their very hands and depart to some world where they'd never be able to find him. Turning slowly, he faced Obi-Wan with a malice gleaming from his eyes. "It would be the last thing you ever did."

"And you would be the one to stop me?" said Obi-Wan softly. "My powers are far greater than any moisture farmer's, Owen."

"But how would they be against the likes of Darth Vader? Any information leading to the arrest of exiled Jedi still pays quite a bit, Kenobi."

Owen watched with satisfaction as Obi-Wan's mouth dropped open.

"You would do that?"

"To protect my family, I would do just about anything," said Owen.

"I see," said Obi-Wan shaking his head sadly.

"Good. Now get off my property and leave my family alone." Owen went into his home and slammed the door behind him.

end


	3. Chapter 3

Tales of Tatooine #3

Beru Lars looked up from the braised fork tarts she was preparing to see Luke hurry past her into his room and slam the door. Laying aside the cutting knife and depositing the meat into the cooking unit, she tip toed towards Luke's room and listened at the door.

Her throat tightened as she heard the muffled sobs of the ten year old boy as he cried out his sorrow. Gently knocking first, she palmed the door knob open and stuck her head into the room.

"Luke? Are you okay, dear?"

She saw his small shoulders stiffen and his head turn in her direction.

"I'm okay," he said in a small voice.

Beru crossed to the bed and sat down next to the small boy. Even at ten years of age he was still the smallest boy his age—something the other boys often taunted him about. She ran a hand through is tussled blonde hair and sighed.

"Looks like it's time for another hair cut. I swear, Luke, your hair grows faster than a bonegnawer after a cliffborer worm."

He rolled toward her, his tear streaked face curling up into a smile. "Nothing's as fast as _that,_ Aunt Beru."

"Well…pretty close then." She pulled a homespun kerchief from her pocket and began to wipe his face. "Uh-oh…I've made a clean spot."

Luke laughed, taking the kerchief from her and finishing the task. "I can take it from here."

She smiled, folding her hands into her lap. "Do you feel like talking?"

"No."

"Might help."

He rolled his eyes. "Talking won't change anything."

"I _meant_ it might make you feel better to talk about what is bothering you."

Luke sat silently with a stubborn glint in his eye.

"Very well…far be it from me to force a conversation out of you, young man." She stood and straightened her apron. "Why I have an entire evening of exciting activities planned just waiting for me to return to."

"Like what, Aunt Beru?"

"Well…there's the fork tarts to finish and sand to sweep out of my kitchen." She turned toward the door. "Not to mention folding your clothes and putting them away…along with your uncle's things. I've simply _got_ to finish the mid-day meal dishes and by then there'll be more sand to sweep out of my kitchen."

The blue eyes sparkled as he looked up into her face. "Doesn't sound very exciting to me."

"Maybe not to you, but I'm quite ready to get back to my exhilarating life, so if there's nothing more you need…"

Luke took a deep breath. "They were teasing me again today…the boys at school."

Beru steeled her face and shoved her hands into the pocket of her apron. "The same ones?"

Luke nodded his head.

"What did Biggs do?"

"He wasn't there today—he's off somewhere with his father."

She crossed to the bed and sat down again. "I see."

"Just because I don't have a father they call me orphan _sleemo. _They say I never even had one—that I was hatched from a wayward massif egg."

Beru pursed her lips and folded her arms across her chest. "Well, first of all—massif's are mammals and don't lay eggs, but more importantly, you did have a father, Luke. It's just unfortunate that he died when you were born."

"It's not fair," he said, pulling his legs up close to him. "And why won't Uncle Owen tell me any more about him?"

"He has his reasons, Luke." She ran a hand down his arm, briefing touching his hand. "When you're older, I'm sure he'll tell you more…but for now he needs you to trust him."

"I do…I just wish…"

"Hmmmm?"

He looked away and sighed. "Sometimes…I have these dreams about him."

"Your father?"

Luke nodded his head. "In my dream, he shows up at school and tells everyone that he's looking for his son—for me, Aunt Beru...and that he hadn't died. It was all just a big mistake, he wasn't a navigator on some spice freighter, he was a pilot—he even owned his own starfighter."

Beru cupped Luke's small chin and cocked her head. "Oh sweetie…"

"I know…it was just a dream. I guess I better get washed up for the evening meal." Luke trudged to the door and then turned. "Thanks, Aunt Beru, I guess talking about it did make me feel a little better."

"You're welcome, Luke." She watched him trail down the hall to the fresher and close the door.

Owen's voice echoed from the kitchen, calling her to him. She stood and walked the short distance to the alcove.

Her husband looked up from his datapad and frowned. "Where's the boy?"

"He's in the fresher. Some of the boys at school were making fun of him again today."

Owen shook his head. "You coddle him too much, Beru. That boy needs to toughen up and learn about the realities of life."

She picked up her knife and began to cut the stalk of chuba roots. "He's only ten year's old for star's sake." She dropped some of the cubed roots into the cooker. "Owen, when are you going to tell Luke the truth about his father?"

He snorted loudly. "Never—I'll not have Luke following in his father's _stoopa_ Jedi footsteps, Beru."

"They weren't foolish."

"They got him killed, didn't they?" He dropped the datapad on the counter and opened the cooling unit, pulling out a bottle of ale.

"The Imperials did that—not the Jedi."

"Shhhhh…for star's sake, woman. Do you want the boy to hear?"

She stabbed the knife into the remaining chuba and faced her husband. "Maybe it's time, Owen. All he asks about anymore is what 'was his father like' and 'do we have any holo-pics of him?' It's only natural that he would want to know about him."

"I said NO."

Beru knew she had lost this argument yet again and finished preparing the meal.

Owen picked up his datapad and took a sip of ale. "It's funny though…"

"What is?"

"The boy never asks about his mother."

Beru poured cups of blue milk as she considered her husband's observation. Walking to the hallway to summon Luke, she turned back toward her husband. "Perhaps it's because that role is not lacking in his life."

She noticed the red flush to her husband's face as she left the room.

end


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